"Mrs. Friar!" The smile plastered across Isla Petrova's perfect face was way too wide, and it certainly did not reach her eyes. And there was that little tilt of her eyebrows - that subtle micro-expression that made clear exactly how she felt about Riley.

Reading faces had gotten to be an automatic thing for her now - especially as her husband's company grew in size and success, and she attended more 'work functions' (more like balls) with him. Good thing, too, because now she could understand when a woman was being maliciously polite - a term she had been using in her own mind for a while now to describe women who were sickly sweet and polite to hide their backhanded compliments and show their annoyance with her presence in a 'socially acceptable' way.

Riley had met Isla Petrova a couple of times, since her husband worked under Lucas. It was pretty clear to Riley that Isla Petrova did not like her - probably because she was an 'outsider' in this high class lifestyle.

"Mrs. Petrova," Riley greeted her, her fake smile not as perfectly crafted as Isla's, but it did the job. "How is your husband?"

"Very busy," Isla laughed shortly. "I don't see much of him. He's been promoted to COO, you know."

'Into the inner circle of executives with my husband,' Riley thought, dreading what that came with. "Congratulations."

"I expect we'll be seeing more of each other now," Isla suggested, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was expecting Riley to turn her down, somehow, so that she could claim Riley was rude.

Riley bit her tongue. "Perhaps," she agreed, her own tone tight and polite as her smile continued to freeze her face.

"My husband and I might be inclined to invite Mr. Friar and you to our house for dinner - I've perfected some dishes that my husband very much enjoys," Isla mused, scanning Riley for a response. "Or maybe… not dinner. Maybe just tea. I know that we ladies need to keep our figure."

Riley could read the plain meaning behind the two statements - one, she couldn't cook, two, she needed to lose weight.

She bit her tongue harder this time. "Perhaps, if we can find a time," she dismissed vaguely. "If you'll excuse me." She turned a little to slide past Isla and move through the crowd away from the woman, who, Riley knew, was about to go and gossip with the other socialites.

"I hate parties," Riley muttered to herself, the mild anger - more frustration - pulsing through her chest as she made it to one of the standing tables, the farthest one she could find, and began to scan the crowd for her husband. She wanted to leave.

After all, it wasn't his party, right? He didn't have to stay this time. And neither did she. That's what she was internally begging for at least, when her eyes landed on Lucas, who was speaking with a man and two women - one of whom had her hand on his upper arm. She could see the hungry look on the woman's face from all the way across the room.

And the parts of her brain started to battle.

He loves me. That girl has no chance.

- Then why hasn't he moved away from her? -

He's being polite. He doesn't want to seem impolite.

- Why does he even entertain this sort of thing? He'd never have let it happen back in high school. -

This isn't high school. This is real life, with real acquaintances.

- That doesn't mean she has to be all over him. Why are they so bold anyways? It's pretty clear that he and I aren't in some sort of casual relationship. -

They're testing the limits probably. Trying to see what they can gain by sucking up to him.

- But he's only human, right? He can give in eventually. -

He won't though. He loves you.

Riley watched the girl laugh, slyly moving a little closer to him as she said something that made Lucas smile.

- Then why doesn't he move away? -

"Mrs. Friar," a deep voice greeted her, and she whirled around, "don't care to join the fray?"

"I'm sorry," Riley said slowly, not bothering to conceal the chill in her voice as she looked him up and down, "do I know you?"

The man smiled in a way that almost made Riley feel at ease - and that alone was enough to make her feel very much not at ease. "Ellis Cameron," he introduced himself. He raised an eyebrow. "But no, I don't believe we've met face to face."

Riley traced his features, trying to find some tell that he was just as two-faced as everyone else here.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he said, "Would you like a drink?"

Riley swallowed hard, her fake smile plastering itself over her face again, automatically. "No, thank you. I won't be drinking tonight."

"The liquor is high quality," he teased. "I wouldn't miss the chance, if I were you."

She felt like he was just teasing. Like a friend. But no one here was a friend, right?

"I can deal without, but please," she suggested, "enjoy yourself." She began to inch away, hoping she could retreat to the bathroom where she would at least be alone in a stall.

"Wait," he requested. "I did want to ask you about something."

And there it was.

"Yes?" Riley asked, hoping that it would be something that she could simply reject and leave.

"Have you been out of town with Mr. Friar recently?" He questioned.

Riley frowned. "I'm sorry, but I don't see what business of yours that would be."

"Actually," he lowered his voice a little, "I think it is."

Riley stepped back a little on instinct, suddenly beginning to understand that this very much wasn't a casual conversation. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"There's been a recent string of questionable financial movements and we're investigating-"

"We?" Riley cut in. "Who's we?"

"The Federal Bureau of Investigation," he replied bluntly, and Riley's eyes widened.

"Okay, this conversation is over," she said quickly, not knowing what she should and shouldn't say to him. Just the thought of saying another word made her anxious.

"You're not under arrest, Mrs. Friar," he assured her, obviously trying to make her feel at ease again - but Riley knew his game now.

"Good to know," she shut him down. "If you'll excuse me."

"Mrs. Friar-" He reached out a hand and latched it onto her forearm, and she nearly gasped in genuine shock.

"Let go of me," she ordered firmly, hoping to not draw too much attention to them.

"I'd just like to finish our conversation, so we don't end up with any misunderstandings," he suggested.

"The conversation is already finished," Riley declared, only a bit of panic lacing her voice. She knew that if he didn't let go of her arm voluntarily, she wouldn't be strong enough to force him to. Any yell and everyone would be all over the situation - but then that would be a situation. With police, reporters, and press.

Every millisecond that he held onto her arm her dread was growing, as she hoped desperately that this would not turn into a big spectacle. She had no clue what to do.

And then, Lucas was there.

He slipped between the two of them swiftly and before she could even blink, Ellis Cameron had been ripped away from her arm and was on the floor, with a bleeding jaw. Lucas swiveled around to face her for a second, his eyes frantically searching her face and body - reaching out to cup his palms around her head.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asked anxiously, concern coating his voice and expression.

Riley's hands came up to hold onto his, and she nodded. "I'm fine, but he's-"

Having gotten his answer, Lucas shook his head. "Go find Zay and some security and stay with them."

The flip in Lucas's expression and body language as he turned away from her and back to the man who was getting up from the floor was like day and night. Gone was the worried husband who only cared about keeping her safe. The Lucas that was standing over this man was a malicious predator with hackles up and one thought on his mind - revenge.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he growled, "but if you think that you'll be walking away after that, you're about to face some harsh reality."

"I'm Ellis Ca-" He began to explain, his voice coming out a little garbled through the blood, but Lucas didn't even give him a chance.

His knee slammed into Ellis's stomach right before his fist collided with his throat, and Riley winced, beginning to move forward, hoping to mitigate at least some damage before this went even worse.

"Nope," came a low voice from right beside her, and the man - the one guy that she and Lucas knew and trusted at this party - darted in front of her to block her view and path. "No chance in hell."

"Zay," Riley tried desperately to explain, trying to peer around the tall guy, "why isn't anyone stopping him? One of us needs to stop him."

"It's not going to be you," Zay stated in a voice that left no room for argument and only traveled between the two of them, obviously doing his best not to flinch at the sounds behind him that Riley could no longer see. "Because either you get in the way and he accidentally hurts you, or you distract him and that guy gets the drop. In both situations, Lucas would blame me for even letting you get that far. Now go with him," he nodded to a suit-clad man with an ear-piece that was standing a few feet away, "before this gets worse. The only thing that will stop this is him knowing that you're safe and that you need him with you - away from this."

"He's going to get arrested," Riley hissed, tearing up. "Stop him!"

"Riley." Zay's eyes flicked to the security guard. "Go. Now. I've got this under control."

Riley gave one last desperate, pleading look. "I don't want him hurt because of me."

She turned and nodded at the guard, holding her shoulders tight and doing her best not to flinch at each sound made as he hurried beside her towards the exit. Another guard fell in tow with them, and as they moved farther away from the ballroom the only sounds that were made were the clicking of their shoes against the floor as they walked briskly to an empty conference room, just a few halls down.

Riley sank down onto a chair and pulled her wrap tightly around herself, watching silently as one guard posted outside and closed the door behind him, and the other stood next to it, inside the room with her. She closed her eyes, running through scenarios as the silence around her seemed to press in.

It seemed like just a few seconds later that the door opened and shut, and Lucas's hand touched her cheek as he bent down in front of her. She opened her eyes but instinctively moved away from his hand, subconsciously fearing that the dampness of his skin would mess with her makeup.

"I'm sorry," he realized, dropping his hands to his pants to wipe them drier. "I would have been here sooner, but I needed to clean up."

Riley stared at him, his eyes just at her level as he crouched in front of her, searching his face for injuries and startlingly finding none. 'He must have gotten the drop,' she thought, wondering how incredibly angry he must have been to have that adrenaline.

"Riley," Lucas murmured her name, gently pressing his hands to her thighs over her dress. "You okay baby?"

Riley didn't say anything for a second, her mind going back to the last sight of that man as her husband's knuckles collided with his throat. She didn't even know what had happened after that.

"Just please," she sighed, "tell me-"

"No," Lucas said firmly. "You don't want to know." His eyes searched her face worriedly. "What did you see?"

"Zay got in front of me," Riley admitted.

Lucas relaxed a little in relief. "Good."

Riley took another moment to watch his face, before reaching up and pressing her palms to his cheeks. "I don't want you ever doing that again."

He snorted. "If anyone ever touches you again," Lucas said firmly, his eyes holding her gaze captive, "I'll rip out their spine."

A/N: I feel like there might not be enough context for this oneshot but I had initially started writing something completely different and it turned into this. Basically Riley and Lucas are married, Lucas is a CEO or CFO in a fast growing company, and they're now required to go to parties with other executive sort of people and their partners (which Riley really doesn't like). I really liked the whole 'Lucas protecting Riley at the drop of a hat' thing, which is why I wrote this here - I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit it into a different story.

I'm not feeling great about the wording because one side effect of my relapses is foggy-headedness, which for me includes me forgetting words. Literally. I spent hours trying to remember the word 'firmly'. I know what I want to convey but I don't remember the right word. It's incredibly frustrating as a writer, and it makes writing so much harder which is why I've probably not posted anything to Nodus Tollens or Anecdoche yet. (My boyfriend tries to help me figure out what word I'm thinking of, but he's not a writer so we usually just end up blindly throwing out guesses together as I try to explain the word I'm looking for better in different terms. Like the most frustrating game of 20 questions ever because neither of us know the answers.)

I really hope this doesn't suck because with my brain being a bitch I can't really tell. Sorry in advance if it does :(

Kisses,

C